Cheap Gothic Soap Opera, Part 80

At Woodsonson, Mrs. Woodson was staring out of the window, waiting, looking at the waves crash on rocks below. Richard Davidson walked in, brandishing brandy.
"Wife-sister, what's wrong?" he asked incestuously with a not-very-subtle adverb.
"I'm just waiting for the governess," she replied, "The letter said she'd be here by now."
"You know, Bithle [a more accursed name there never was!], you never told me why you got this governess. I mean, you hardly even know who she is," he said getting some more brandy.
"Um. It's...because."
"Because what?"
"Because....the door! I hear someone at the door!"
Suddenly the doors blew open with ghostly force.
"My god," gasped Richard, "There's no one there!"
"What? Are you kidding? There's a girl standing right in front of you! Come in, come in. Sturgy, I presume?" asked, questioned, exclaimed, and asked Bithle [why do the gods bring such misfortunes upon mere mortals!].
"Yes," said Sturgy walking into the drawing room, "And you must be Mrs. Woodson."
"Call me Bithle [may the lives of men in which such horrors occur be brought to a swift and merciful end!]. Over there sipping brandy is my 'husband' Richard." Richard sipped some brandy. "How did you get up to Woodsonson?"
"I walked here from the hotel. I was offered a ride, but the man actually took me in the opposite direction of Woodsonson, and then left me to start shouting 'revenge!' at some tourists."
"My dear, who was this man?"
"His name was...Buck Satlin."
Richard sipped some brandy.
Bithle [augh! the neverending agony of my soul!] nudged Richard. "what? oh. Oh!.......Buck Satlin!" He waited.
Sturgy waited.
She who shall not be named waited.
Richard sipped some brandy.
Bithle [aldfjhagoiehogihaoidhoiahdg] began to shuffle her feet.
Sturgy spoke: "What's wrong with B-"

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"What's wrong with Buck Satlin?" asked Sturgy."
"Oh. Nothing," replied Richard, "Absolutely nothing. Now, I have to go now, so I'll be going now." He left.
"Well," said Bithle [ ] if I were to fill in this bracket, unknown monstrosities would descend upon you and devour your soul from your very body, "I guess you better meet Davidson."
She led Sturgy up the stairs. She knocked on a door. "Davidson, your new governess is here. Would you look to meet her?"
"No. I don't wanna!" came the reply through the door from a surprisingly deep voice.
"Um," said Sturgy, "How old is Davidson?"
"24 or 25. We've lost track. But I'm sure you'll have fun. Because he hasn't been homeschooled for the past 18 years, and because he's definitely not inbred."
"Oh."

(OP: Nate, February 13 2008)